The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1887-08-25

the ghost himself sixty yearsago; Oft
on;and often he has told me of it; and
believe the old Squire knew of it too,
for he never laughed or scoffed as
some fools do with significant sniff
when folk talked of ghosts"
And so the talk drifted on to other
matters, and Mr.. Jenifer was left to
contemplate another element OF alb.
surdity introduced into his we'll ar
ranged commonplace existence, and
felt quite angry at the thought that
he of all men should, by the irony of
fate, be brought into 4 ghost story.
But as he never had believed in ghosts
he did not mean to begin now; and
after inquiring mis- way to Waterdell
Hall he found that he must start at
once If he wished to reach there before
nightfall. 1t was q somewhat dull
walk which led him at last along
narrow road ending in an abrupt de
scent. The high hedges on either side
had lost their summer beauty with
out yet gaining the glory OF Autumn;
the few roseberries were sickly look.
ing and withered and frosted with a
whitish blight, and their leaves hung
shivering on the twigs, while in the
fields beyond the evening mists were
already rising. The road turned
sharply to the right, and then Water.
dell Hall lay before its future owner.
To a cheerful eye it might have
seemed nesting in q bower of green
cry; but Jenifer, out of tune with
things in general and tired with his
walk, saw in its withdrawal from the
high road a guilty seclusion from OBJ
servation. Four tall Wellingtonias
rose dark and solemn above the little
wicket gate and csst a gloom over the
garden path, in which some late ger.
aniums and petunias only served by
their touches of brilliant color to &C.
centuate the general melancholy. The
house itself instead of boldly looking
forth on the passers by, turned its
face away from the road, and had no
prospect but the little bit of garden
and the four sentinel trees.
The door stood open, and Mr.. Jeni-
fer entered a narrow passage where
no welcoming footsteps came to meet
his own; only a Virginian creeper
torn by the wind tapped on the porch;
otherwise all was still. Mr.. tenifer
looked round him for a moment, and
then went through the silent house to
the chief sitting room. It was neither
large nor high, but it had that indi.
vidual charm which only age and
years of occupancy can give.
The old-fashioned mantle reached,
with its dark rich cary
ings, to the ceiling, across which was
a massive oaken beam, nearly black
with age, the fireplace, with it's glaring
logs, gave out a cheerful glimmer, re-
Elected in the small quarries of the
window opposite, over which hung a
carved scroll, whose inscription there
was not light enough to read. Mr..
Jenifer breathed a sigh OF relief at the
comfortable appearance here, in con-
trast to the depressing aspect of the
rest OF the house; but instead of set.
thing himself las he felt tempted to do)
by the the fire, he again went out to
look over the surrounding property.
Behind, the ground rose abruptly, and
was bounded by closely growing cop:
pice, through which a narrow path
seemed to strike in the direction OF the
village. The parson climbed the hill,
leaving the coppice on his left, and
standing on the highest portion of the
meadow, looked across the low hedge
at the last pageant of the sunset.
Some elm trees were silhouetted
against the sky, athwart which lay
bars OF rosy flame, tender and evane.
scent. One moment the dying light
leaped up brighter and throbbed
through all the burning heaven, and
then suddenly it died away, and the
day was not.
Jenifcr turned and looked at the
hall. Already It seemed to be losing
itself in the darkness which gathered
round it, hiding in the recesses of the
gables, drawing curtains of mist over
the twisted chimneys. The silence, en-
tire and absolute, struck almost with
oppression on the mind of this man
accustomed to city noises; but even
as he thought to himself, "How still
it all is" there sounded in the coppice
close behind him long, sebbing.
moaning cry, which rose and fell, and
rose again, and then ceased.
Clement Jenifer was not particu-
larry tender-hearted or compassion
ate man, but that sudden cry filled
him with a vague fear OF some cruel
deed lust perpetrated-some awful
mystery to be brought to light; and
after moments hesitation he turned
in the direction whence it had seemed
to come, and found himself on a long
path, with thick yew hedge on eth.
er side. Far ahead, in the dim twi.
light, he could descry O. figure walking
c1nu1x, a NOV, from, him. ~ oo,,1l hoo =
a moaning sound, as of some one in
pain, Mr.. Jenifer FASTENED his pace
in order to come up with the sufferer,
and as he gained on HIM and
could see him more distinctly it
seemed to him that there was some
thing familiar in the gait and bearing
OF the Unknown. And as he thought
so the figure turned, and, facing him.
advanced with slow, uncertain foot.
steps, wringlng his hands as he came
What was it that struck Mr.. Jennie,
as SO we'll known to him? What was
it that filled him with a sudden hor
ror, and sent the blood back to hit
heart? All the tales of ghosts and
haunting noises at which he had
scoffed so lately required to his mind
and yet there was nothing unearthly
in the aspect Of the man who was ap
preaching him. And now they two
stood face to face, and Clement Jenifel
saw that this-he knew not what tt
call it-bore the face which he himsel
had borne twenty years ago, and h,
knew-though how he conld not tell
that he was standing face to face will
the ghost OF his own dead past.
Then ensued conversations
strange, Observation-Disclosures thes'
} two, who still were one; but whether
the words were uttered on the evening
; air, or whether the knowledge OF whai
, was in the mind of each was mutua
to both, it were hard TO say.
} "Why do I haunt your" said thi
; this double Of himself, gazing on hin
, with reproachful eyes. "Do not mur
dered victims haunt their slayers
J and have not you murdered tina